My Boyfriend Is Such A Girl
by No Hassle Castle
Summary: "I'm just... finicky." "Finicky? Is that another word for being a girl?"    Delena humor/fluff. Post-Klaus. Implied Caroline/Matt and Bonnie/Jeremy.


Not particularly proud of this one. But I had fun writing it. It's 1:40 in the morning. It was just supposed to be a shopping trip, just the two of them. But the story morphed into Damon's over-particularity, making him a "girl".

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><p><strong>ONE-SHOT<strong>

"Blah, blah, blah, blah," Damon said, scanning the newspaper, legs-crossed. "Mystic Falls is so boring, now that there's nobody around to harm it. Maybe I should, like, be evil again and start terrorizing this town just for fun. Now wouldn't that be a great day."

Elena rolled her eyes at him with a sigh. "I don't know why you bother even reading the newspaper anymore," she said, looking up to wag her eyebrows at him tauntingly. "It only annoys you."

"I read the news to mock it," he said, smiling at her. "Did my cooking expertise fail again?"

She grinned at him. "No, it didn't, actually," she said, placing her fork down. "It's really good, Damon. A hundred sixty eight years of existence and you finally got around to make a perfect French toast. This is a milestone. You should be proud of yourself. It's not at all the girlish thing you've ever done."

She peaked for behind her lashes, watching for his reaction. "Is that sarcasm I detect," he said, squinting at her. She shrugged cryptically and sipped her coffee. "I'm going to accept the compliment."

Elena chuckled, leaning back on her chair. Her eyes trailed the back of the newspaper, reading the print. "Hey, I didn't know we were having another Decade Dance. And it's tonight? Oh, you know what we should do—"

"Ooh, no can do," he said, hissing snidely.

"I didn't even say anything yet!" she argued, eyes widening. "And why not?"

"Because the last dance didn't give me a lot of fond memories to look back on," he said, scratching his eyebrow. "Besides, why would you go to the Decade Dance? Bunch of teenagers dancing for the sake of dancing. Impending doom around the corner."

"Klaus is dead, Damon," she said dismissively. "No doom to worry about. C'mon, we'll have fun. We won't have anything on our mind. We can finally let loose!"

Jeremy's footsteps echoed across the house, his legs taking two steps at a time down the stairs. He paused at the kitchen, shrugging his hoodie on.

"Hey, Damon," he said, half-surprised. Damon nodded to him, acknowledging his presence. "Elena, I'm just… going to the mall with Bonnie. I'll be back soon."

"The mall? Why, what are you guys up to?" she asked, eyebrows quirked.

"She needs an outfit for the Decade Dance and we have to coordinate. I don't know why she's making such a big deal out of it, though."

Damon raised his hand and dropped it in agreement to Jeremy. "See! Guys don't like these sort of things, Elena."

"Oh, so you do admit that it's not because you're paranoid about safety, but because you're just not into it? Wow, Damon," she said, shaking her head. Damon huffed. "But in case you haven't noticed, Jeremy is still going to meet Bonnie for shopping! He's still going to the dance. No matter how much he isn't into it, he's still going. _For Bonnie._"

Damon sighed. "Okay, fine, fine," he said. Elena fist-pumped, a victorious smile on her face. "I'll go to the dance. But we're not going to do all the… dressing up and all that, alright?"

Jeremy waved goodbye to them, sensing that he wasn't paid attention anymore. "Oh, that's no fun," she said, throwing her head back. "You wore _flared leather pants _the last time. How could you not want to dress up this time around?"

"Because this Decade Dance is dedicated to the eighties," he said, laughing. "I loved the eighties, Elena. But the clothes aren't something I'd like to relive."

"So what are you going to wear? Jeans and a t-shirt? That's lame."

Damon remained silent, lips pursed. _Let her have her way. She won't love you any less. Just let her have her way. _"Fine, I'll dress up," he said. Elena clapped her hands together, an excited look on her features. "But only because I want to look like I belong next to you when people look at us."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said, getting up and sitting on his lap. She littered Eskimo kisses on his face, along his neck and finally on his waiting lips.

"Is this my reward every time I agree to doing what you want to do?" he said, pulling her closer to him by the waist. Elena hummed, nodding. "Anything else, then?"

She laughed. "I'd loooove to go shopping right now," she said, biting her lip. She knew she was pushing him into doing this; he hated shopping. "Please?"

He grinned at her, batting his eyelashes. "I don't see why not."

"Damon, look at this," she said, pulling out a pair of neon green leggings from the rack. "Yes, no?"

He puckered his lips in thought, placing his hand on his chin to humor Elena. "It's too… bright? I don't know, babe. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Too bright? If you had no idea what you were doing, you wouldn't make such a comment… How 'bout this?" she said, flashing him a pair with a tamer shade of pink.

"That's… that's good," he said, nodding, glancing at the racks surrounding him. He brought out a leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders and along the arm. Damon's face screwed up in delight, putting it on. "Fact about me number 156, I owned one of these in the eighties, back when I lived in New York."

"You lived in New York during the eighties?" she said, slinging the leggings over her arm. She paused what she was doing to look at him, curious.

"Sure did," he said, smiling at her. "I partied with Madonna, and MJ. I was that cool. At least I was that cool before I started getting drunk."

"I'd love to see that," Elena said mockingly, showing him a frilly black skirt. "How's this?"

"Just so you know, Elena," he said, taking the jacket off and hanging it on his shoulder, "you'll look perfect in anything, and everything... and nothing."

Elena looked down, hiding her face as the blood rushed to color her cheeks a bright red. "Damon," she warned.

"What? Just stating facts," he said with a cavalier shrug.

She put the skirt along with the leggings, letting her eyes skim along the other clothes as she tried to stop his comment from buzzing around in her head. Her eyes zeroed in on a bright green tank top and she set it along with the others, not bothering to ask Damon; he might just make another comment that would cause her to flush again.

"Crop top or denim jacket?" she asked, holding both up for him to look at.

"That crop top is so revealing," he said, scrunching his face up in outrage. "Denim jacket."

"Why? What's wrong with people seeing a bit more skin than usual? It's a dance," she said, testing him.

He snorted in response. "You seriously think I want one of your pubescent classmates to feast their eyes on you? No way in hell. For Damon's eyes only."

Elena laughed. "You're adorable when you're jealous."

"What are you talking about—I'm not jealous. I'm trying to protect your virtue."

"You and I know that my virtue is long gone, Damon," she said, raising lifting her brows for a quirk.

Damon gulped audibly, prying his eyes away from her. She laughed, clearly getting the reaction she was going for. "Are we done?" he said.

"You haven't picked anything out yet," she said, pressing her lips into a straight line.

"I got my jacket," he said, bobbing his head in pleasure. "I'm okay with this."

"Really, Damon? You're going to walk in there with nothing but that leather jacket? I'm pretty sure my _pubescent _friends would just love to see your cute little ass sashaying across the dance floor."

Damon rolled his eyes at her, grabbing a random pair of pants without surveying them first. Elena burst into laughter, unable to contain her giddiness.

"No turning back," she said with a shake of her head. "You're going to have to wear that!" Damon reached behind him to put it back but she took his hand, stopping him. "No, that's what you're wearing."

"Elena—"

"You were being a smartass and this is what you get," she said, patting his face. He jutted out his lower lip and bulged his eyes out. Elena laughed, kissing the him. "You know you can't compel me and that look doesn't work. You're wearing these pants tonight."

"I will do anything not to wear these," he said, pleading.

"I think the thrill of watching you walk into a high school gym in _these _pants is enough of an amusement to last me a good couple of years," she said, laughing again. "You're going to look sexy nonetheless, don't worry about it."

Damon grunted in disgust, throwing the jacket onto his arm. "It would have been _fine _if they were just leather pants," he grumbled to himself. "The stupid _flames _along the side just ruined it."

Elena tapped her foot impatiently, consulting her watch for what felt like the hundredth time. She gazed at the mirror again, tilting her head to the side. She was content with the way she looked and never had a problem with that. What she really wanted now… was to see Damon donning those leather pants.

"Just come out already," she called softly, not wanting to pressure him. If she did, the more he won't emerge. "I won't laugh. I won't love you any less, either. Just get out of there."

"I look stupid," he said from behind the door.

"You're being such a girl," she said, giggling. "You're not supposed to be insecure! You're Damon Salvatore, Mystic Falls most eligible bachelor."

"Technically, I'm not a bachelor anymore since I'm committed into a relationship with a woman who honestly wants to humiliate me in front of the entire student body."

She laughed, pacing in front of the door. "That's not true," she said. "People in the eighties wear clothes like those all the time! When we step into that gym, it's like we're going back to the past, and wearing those pants won't be such a horrendous thing."

"Oh, trust me, it would still be," he said, voice muffled by the wood separating them. "I'd rather walk in their in my boxers than wear these hideous… death traps."

"You're being melodramatic," she said, smiling. _My boyfriend is such a girl_. "Come out, Damon. Don't make me come in there and drag you out."

She heard a sigh, and she straightened up in anticipation. The door creaked open, revealing Damon decked out on his outfit. Elena's hand flew to her mouth, swallowing down the laugh she knew was coming.

But, even though he looked like such a dork in that outfit, her eyes dilated in want, letting them wander down his chest, to his stomach, settling on his legs.

"Okay, go ahead," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Laugh. Get it out of your system."

She walked over to him, placing her palms on either side of his face. "You look like sex on legs," she said, looking him in the eye.

Damon caught her lips in his; ravenous by the way he kissed her hungrily. She laced her fingers with his hair, holding her as close as she pleased. He groaned against her lips as he wound his arms around her, pulling her even closer. Elena parted their lips, her lungs screaming for oxygen.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked breathily, intertwining their hands.

"Let's get this over with."

"I can't believe you talked me into this," he said, tone flat, as he looked around the room, watching teenagers dance against each other in their outrageous outfits. "I look like a old geezer next to these people."

"Well, you _are _a hundred sixty-eight," she said, fluttering his eyelashes at him. "If you think about it, you could be their forefathers."

Damon stuck his tongue out and Elena chuckled. "You're so funny," he commented ironically.

"I swear, Damon, you are such a girl!" Elena shouted over the music. "Seriously, you complain more than any other girl I know, much less a guy."

"I'm just very… finicky," he said defensively.

"Finicky. Is that another word for being a girl?" Elena mocked. Damon's jaw slacked in indignation. "I'm joking!"

"Hey, you made it!" Bonnie said from behind Elena. "And you brought Damon."

Bonnie glared at Damon for a second before throwing her arms around her best friend, giving her a squeeze. "Can somebody explain to me why witchy here still doesn't like me?"

"Maybe because you call her witchy," Tyler remarked, walking into their circle with Caroline on tow. He and Jeremy bumped fists.

"Are we really going to have the supernatural tea party right now?" Damon said, arching his neck backwards in annoyance. "Two vampires, a witch, a werewolf and a human. Did I miss anything? Should Klaus make a special guest appearance as the mutated hybrid? Or maybe an apparition of Isobel, visiting us as a ghost?"

"Damon, you're such a girl," Stefan quipped, surprising him from behind.

Elena laughed. "See! I told you; you are _such _a girl."

"I'm not—I'm not a girl!" Damon said, nose flaring. Elena only laughed harder. "Can anybody explain to me how I'm a girl? Really?"

"You change your mind like a girl changes clothes," Stefan piped.

"You PMS like a bitch; I would know," Bonnie tossed in.

"That makes me indecisive; not female! Katy Perry is hating you both," Damon argued.

"The fact that you know Katy Perry doesn't make you less of a girl, just a heads up," Stefan said, a wide smile spreading across his face.

"Help me," Damon begged, turning away to hide his face in the crook of Elena's neck.

"Okay, enough with talking about how much Damon's a girl," Caroline said, choking back a guffaw. "But look at those _pants._"

He groaned, running an irate hand through his gelled up hair. "I'm out of here," he mumbled.

"We're just having a little fun, Damon," Elena said, pulling him back next to her. "You're still sexy as hell, so don't worry about it."

Damon's eyes lit up, proud of himself to be complimented so much by the woman he loved in a span of a day.

She noticed the flicker of pride in his electric blue eyes and couldn't help but smirk.

_My boyfriend is such a girl._


End file.
